


서울의 달

by quagmireisadora



Series: Dear Moon [2]
Category: K-pop, SHINee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Borderline Adultery, Drinking, Jazz - Freeform, M/M, Mentioned Lee Jinki | Onew, Romance, Strangers to Lovers, Top Kim Kibum | Key, remix fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:28:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27214189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quagmireisadora/pseuds/quagmireisadora
Summary: “How do I know you won’t just... leave me here?”My love fixes my glance. My love steals a thousand moments from my wrist and a thousand breaths from my chest. My love dances and sings, brightens my broken heart, shapes it like a jewel before stealing it from me. My love wages a war, one I know I cannot win against it. So I surrender. I willingly accept the loss. I become a prisoner to my love and it gladly captivates me. All I do is think of my love. All I do is think of him.“You... don’t,” Jonghyun replies. “But I won’t. Promise.”
Relationships: Kim Jonghyun/Kim Kibum | Key
Series: Dear Moon [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991095
Kudos: 9
Collections: Summer of SHINee General Collection





	서울의 달

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [figleaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/figleaf/pseuds/figleaf). Log in to view. 



> Based on the song [The Moon of Seoul](https://youtu.be/8X51AVO41o8) by Kim Gunmo

The glass is placed before him as he’s stifling a tired yawn. “Compliments of the gentleman in the corner there, sir,” the bartender presents with half a smile. Kibum frowns at the drink, picking up the glass, tilting his wrist this way and that, even going so far as sniffing at the rim. With a confused look, he turns around on his stool and takes in the room.

There are several occupied tables around the place, he notices. Couples, all of them, intently listening to the music or staring at random spots on the ceiling. Some hold hands, some watch each other with knowing glances. Some sip from their drinks and nod their heads in time with the slow beats. He looks for the culprit among them.

It’s like searching for a very specific piece in a massive and confusing puzzle. When he finally spots the guy, slouched on his own by one of the tall indoor plants, Kibum crosses the room with the glass. He’s slow. He tries not to alert the other of his approach.

The heavy bottom of the crystal glass makes a clatter against the wood, almost akin to the sudden plucking of a double bass in a clarinet solo. The stranger’s eyes grow wide in surprise at the returned drink, then wider when he finds a man hovering at his table. Kibum feels like a detective for having solved this mystery.

“Didn’t take this place for that kind of establishment?” his question is terse.

“O-oh no, I wasn’t—” the man shakes his head. His voice is a little raspy, like he hasn’t spoken in a long while. He clears his throat and begins his apology. “I’m so sorry, sir. I wasn’t trying to—”

“You wanted my attention, right?” Kibum cuts him off with a shrug. “You have it. Now what?”

The man’s face pales in apparent panic. He looks from one end of the room to the other but there is no help coming for him. Everyone else is busy enjoying the performance on stage. Some patrons even seem like they’re trying very hard not to pay the two of them any attention. Kibum scoffs at the silent plea for assistance. 

The other is sweating and fumbling for an explanation. “I was just...” he mutters. His eyes are so large and afraid, they could almost be a pair of snare drums. “I’m. Very sorry,” he repeats.

Kibum scoffs.

“Is... there a problem, sir?” a waiter approaches and asks them.

“Yeah,” he nods and takes a seat next to the fretting man. “I don’t like this drink. Get me a Sidecar instead, please.”

“Of course, sir,” the waiter smoothly takes the untouched drink away.

Kibum turns back to the table’s host and finds him slowly relaxing into his chair. The eventual return of relief is clear in his features. A soft laugh is shared after a moment, and then the music steals their attention once again. The band is excellent, their music isn’t of the calibre easily found at a nondescript bar like this. He can tell this is a special performance, staged only for special guests. Maybe his new companion is that special guest, he thinks as they’re assailed by ride cymbals and back-beats. Or maybe they’ve just gotten lucky and come in on a night when astounding things are destined to happen. He doesn’t know yet, but he taps his foot to the rhythm anyway.

“Come here often?” the other man’s voice is nearly hidden under a piano solo.

“No,” Kibum doesn’t take his eyes off the stage. “But I just might start.”

“Ah. A fellow jazz enthusiast, then?”

Kibum looks at the other with raised eyebrows. “It... captivates me. Now and again.”

The smile on the man’s face is shy. The nod of his head is meaningful. He’s just like a blues song, Kibum thinks—a little melancholy but also a little playful. When he places his hand on the table, palm facing up, his fingers look short and strong. “Kim Jonghyun,” he introduces himself.

Kibum considers the hand for a long moment before finally taking hold of it. Despite its sturdiness, it is small in the cup of his palm. He gives it a soft squeeze. “Kim... Kim Kibum,” he replies haltingly, almost expecting a comparison to follow: of which family Kim they are both from and who they might commonly know in their extended group of relatives. But there is no such commentary forthcoming for several minutes, and he feels some gratitude at that. He doesn’t want anything to break the fluidity of the mood. He wants them to endlessly keep floating on it, side-by-side.

The piano joins in, its notes as tangy as the liqueur in his glass. He sways in his chair, eyes closed. The melody runs away from him, then returns and caresses his face. It is erratic and yet so elegant. It is structured in its chaos. The clarinet is reprised to brace the music, holding the piano like a lover fighting for control and yet secretly enjoying its wild partner. Everything is in perfect imbalance.

When the set is completed, the band bows to raucous applause and takes a short break. Their departure is accompanied by an interlude playlist and a shift in lights. Kibum sighs and sips again from his Sidecar.

“You have expensive tastes,” the man named Jonghyun notes, nodding at the drink. He seems more confident in his speech now that the bar is filled with the sound of other people’s voices, as if offering his words camouflage. “Don’t think I know a lot of people who’d swap gin for a shot of Cointreau.”

Kibum shrugs. “I’m usually a soju kind of guy but. Sometimes you spoil yourself, right?”

“I see...” Jonghyun agrees with a slow nod. “So what **else** do you spoil yourself with?” His smile is flirty, his posture inviting.

“This and that,” Kibum flirts back, leaning into the space between them on the pretext of wanting to be heard over the din. “Clothes. Shoes. Bags. A man like me—”

“—only likes diamonds?” Jonghyun finishes, obviously teasing. 

“Not a crime, is it?” 

The other shrugs. “If it makes you happy,” he says, leaving the rest of his sentence unspoken under a soft laugh. His own eyes are sparkling gems, not from alcohol—he doesn’t seem to be drinking at all. But when he looks around the room, his gaze is a mix between tourmaline and starlight. When his tongue slips put for a moment, it rests on the corner of his lips as if savouring the remnants of a thought. They sit in a comfortable silence for several long minutes, and when Jonghyun turns back to him there is no reluctance in his demeanour. 

“How about a drive?” he suggests.

Kibum gives him a look that asks, _are you serious_ , then checks his watch. “Tonight?”

Jonghyun blinks. “Somewhere else to be?” His eyes pointedly go to Kibum’s hands. There is nothing to hide, both men wear wedding bands. Both men have a family somewhere in this city, waiting for them to come back home. There are expectations to live up to and responsibilities to resume. But they choose to be here instead.

He answers with a nonchalant shrug.

“So come,” Jonghyun suggests with a look like he wants nothing more.

* * *

A thick mist hangs around them as they cruise along the narrow road. Their bright headlights don’t really help much, and on any other night Kibum would be a little apprehensive about driving under such treacherous weather conditions. But it must be something about meeting a mystifying stranger in a bar that infects him with the need for danger. He welcomes it. He waits to savour it.

They’ve been driving for nearly three hours. Towns and villages pass them by on either side before the view opens up to the sea. Its smell reaches Kibum before the sight or sound of splashing waves. The burn of salt and seaweed reminds him of childhood trips to Busan. It is high tide at this time of night. The shore is empty, the sand undisturbed. He rolls down his window and folds his arms on the door, craning his face out to drink the cold air.

Jonghyun turns up the music and revs the car, speeding a little.

A slow drum beat pulses through their bodies. Guitar strings are picked in sighs and gasps. The piano leads an enticing dance, much like a circuitous and meandering chase, but it isn’t clear who is on the run and who is pursuing. Kibum turns to his driver and takes in his angular profile—savours the clash of solid jaw against supple lips. He decides that he likes the sound of this song, that it makes him feel like he is being seduced by someone who knows everything about him.

When the music melts down to something slower, something sax, Jonghyun slows the car into a parking island facing the beach. Unclicking his belt he looks towards his passenger and grins brightly.

“How about it?” he jerks his head towards the waves.

There is something too rehearsed about all of this. There is something in the back of Kibum’s mind that tells him he should tread carefully. Danger is enjoyable when it is not an unknown quantity: when he can feel the tug of a belt or the inflation of a vest and breathe easy in the knowledge that safety is close at hand. But when there is nothing separating his body from a cavernous free fall, he wants to take several steps back until he touches a solid wall.

“How do I know you won’t just... leave me here?” he asks with a watery suspicion.

“You... don’t,” Jonghyun replies, but his grin softens and changes into something tinged with sweetness. “But I won’t. Promise.”

Kibum weighs his options before nodding. “Give me your car keys,” he conditions as he pulls his shoelaces loose. “And your wallet.”

“A-am I being robbed...?” the other hesitates for a moment before agreeing, handing over his belongings and shrugging off his suit jacket. “Fine, but you... you can’t leave my side.”

“For how long?” Kibum raises an eyebrow in challenge.

Jonghyun thinks about it for a moment, the gold of his eyes watching the sea rise and abate against the shore. “For the rest of the night,” he finally decides. 

Kibum smirks at him and steps out onto the cold asphalt.

“Is that a yes?” he hears the other ask before he shuts the door.

They walk slowly, arms swinging and feet sinking. The mist kisses their skins and dampens their hair. The sea sprays its blessings towards them. The moon is a perfect half, watching but also waiting. Undecided and nervous but willing to venture into the evening on careful tiptoes. They don’t exchange a lot between them as they stroll. The proximity affords them a few looks and a few brushes of the knuckles. Kibum tries to think back to the last time he has been out with someone like this, alone with nothing but moonlight separating them. He silently tries counting each instance on his fingers but when Jonghyun’s hand meets the back of his, he loses his place and doesn’t want to start again. This time is the only one that matters, he decides. This night, this moment, right now. This is enough for him.

“So,” he asks the man, and the word is a little jarring after the long spate of peace. “Kids?”

Jonghyun looks taken aback by the question. “I-I... no. Not yet.”

“Then... do you want any?”

This time he’s surprised to the point of stuttering laughter. “Hmm... someday,” he nods. “Why do you ask?”

“You... don’t seem like the parenting type,” Kibum observes.

Jonghyun pouts a little, looking offended. Fishing out his phone he unlocks the screen to flash a picture of himself kissing a pup. “I’ll have you know that my baby Roo is the most important person in my life and that I love her very much, OK?”

Kibum takes hold of the phone for a moment, studying the photo until the screen goes dark again. The afterimage is cleanly copied and preserved at the forefront of his mind, where he hopes it will stay for a long time. Returning the device, he nods. “Fine. I stand corrected.”

With a satisfied smile, Jonghyun nods. “And you?”

“Hmm?”

“Any kids?”

“Mm,” Kibum shakes his head. “Not yet. But... we’re trying.”

“Oh...” Jonghyun blinks. If something like that could discourage him from continuing the encounter, it doesn’t. He mulls over the words instead, clearly wanting to ask more but restraining himself out of respect for Kibum’s privacy. Maybe he wants to ask how long they’ve been trying, if it’s made their relationship difficult, if he has any regrets. Maybe he has a thousand questions about Kibum’s domestic situation if tonight is any reflection of possible dissatisfaction.

He settles on the neutral ground of, “Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“I’m not fussed,” Kibum shrugs. “Every child is a blessing. I know I’ll love mine no matter what.”

Jonghyun gives him a compassionate smile. “You’ll make a great father,” he nods.

They proceed to amble along the beach, soon ending up with the waves frothing between their toes. The water is cold, but not biting. Kibum bends and rolls up his pant legs, then stands looking out to the dark horizon. Jonghyun follows his example but stumbles and ends up getting a little drenched. He giggles and regains his balance, holding onto Kibum’s arm for support. The contact is not electric, but oddly comfortable. It is short, too short, and something inside Kibum wants Jonghyun to stagger again so he has an excuse to grip the other tightly.

But the night is gentling. The air washes his head clear of any stray thoughts. He finds a deep contentment in standing next to the other, their shoulders brushing with every deep breath.

“I haven’t been to Tongyeong in years,” he shakes his head and speaks after what seems like several hours. “Thank you. For bringing me.”

Jonghyun doesn’t look at him, but Kibum spots a deep blush on his face. “I... had a selfish reason for it,” he confesses with the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Hmm?”

There is no response for a while. Kibum turns in his place expectantly, but when Jonghyun remains unrelenting with his sight directed up at the moon, he bends and scoops a handful of water to sprinkle it onto the other.

Jonghyun gasps and steps back. “Y-yah...!” he protests.

Kibum raises his eyebrows. “Oh? Look at you suddenly being informal?” Another scoop, another splash. Jonghyun yelps and tries to curl away even as Kibum corners him. “Gonna tell me or not?” he demands, then without waiting for a reply kicks his foot in the other’s direction and soaks him with an arc of water.

Jonghyun makes a high-pitched squealing sound, moving farther and farther away until he’s teetering. A hand reaches out just in time and grapples him by the collar, setting his balance aright then continuing to pull him forward. He lets go of a choking laugh, putting his hands out to prop himself against Kibum’s shoulders. But he must realise that he isn’t being helped, he isn’t being protected. He isn’t safe. This is the beginning of an attack.

Despite his firm grip on Jonghyun’s clothes, Kibum is careful at first. He looks the man in his eyes and asks him wordlessly. He is answered equally wordlessly, a hand reaching up to wrap around his jaw before their chests crush against each other. A nose nestles into a cheek, a chin bumps against a chin, a lip is nipped by insistent teeth. Someone hums, someone else susurrates. A set of fingers clasps a sighing waist. A knee advances on a shifting thigh. A fluttering urge catches against a quaking expectation. Kibum feels his greed rear its head, waiting for him to lose control and take what he wants.

With a deep inhale, he moves away and studies the man before him. 

Jonghyun is so completely bathed in water and moonlight, it’s a little difficult to differentiate which is which. There is salt on his lips, as if he has spent years kissing the ocean before Kibum fished him out. His inhales and exhales lap like languid waves in the short distance between their faces. There is a drive in his searching stare as it rakes over everything. 

“I... haven’t done that in a long time,” Jonghyun pants, hand massaging circles on the centre of Kibum’s chest.

“Haven’t done what?” he’s asked. “Kissed someone or kissed someone who’s so good at it?”

A swat lands on Kibum’s arm, making him laugh before he pulls them together again. This time, he isn’t waiting for permission. He takes the kiss like it belongs to him. Like every breath out of Jonghyun’s lungs is rightfully his own, and he won’t share with anyone else.

* * *

When they’re shivering, they pick their way back to the car. Fingers pull at wet clothes, lips fold between chattering teeth. Kibum looks around them at the heavy fog as if respite will magically materialise before him out of nowhere.

“Your place or mine?” he jokes but driving back to Seoul is not an option. The weather is turning worse. Daylight is still hours away. They could stay in the car until morning but Jonghyun’s clothes are dripping from the elbows and wrists. He looks miserably cold. Kibum feels guilty about doing this to him.

“There’s—there was a pension,” Jonghyun points into the mist, and again his words feel so rehearsed that Kibum could easily mistake him for someone a lot more menacing than a simple one night stand. “We passed by it on the way here. Maybe... maybe we could stay there. Until morning?”

“Tell me the truth,” Kibum questions. “Did you plan all this? Were you always hoping to do all this tonight?”

The surprise and guilt on Jonghyun’s face is the same as earlier that night at the bar. He is like a smooth tune suddenly run helter skelter, baselines askew and riffs disorganized. He is a man syncopated from the rhythm of his own life. “I...” he starts by shaking his head. The explanation is within reach of his fingertips but he won’t stretch any farther to take hold of it. He won’t try his best, he will let his perfection collapse into itself.

Kibum lends him a hand. “Never mind,” he dismisses. “Let’s get you warm.”

The place looks architecturally modern for a small traditional town like Tongyeong. It’s built on a slope, the periphery packed with large stones. Its side is guarded by tall palms that grow ramrod straight against a large balcony. There is a grass lawn out back, and a view of the surrounding hills from the windows. In a different situation, Kibum thinks he might find the place well-suited for a vacation.

The caretaker had shown some reluctance to let out a room to two men, but the posh lamborghini in the parking lot had clearly been what changed his mind. Jonghyun’s face as he jangled the keys was a mix of pleased and incredulous, like he’d pulled off the greatest heist in recent history. 

Squatting outside the bathroom, Kibum had listened to the man singing in the shower. _You’re lonely like me, aren’t you, living with an empty heart,_ he’d sung. His voice was like a dream. It crunched a little at the start of every line, like bare feet on seashells. It dripped like honey off the echoing tiles, sweet and strong. Potent. It soared through a chorus, then lost all its weight in a breathy falsetto. Jonghyun sang with the ease of someone who knew people held their breaths to listen to him. 

But now he sits on the foot of a double bed, wrapped in a towel and studying Kibum with clear anticipation.

“How often do you do this?” he’s quizzed.

“I don’t...” Jonghyun shakes his head. “This—this is the first time. For me.”

“And why did you decide to do it?” Kibum persists, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He doesn’t want to sound like he’s policing the man, but he can’t help it. The way Jonghyun stares makes him want to control everything about the man, every pulse every heartbeat every blink. “You’re married. You have a family to think about. What if you get caught like this? What if word gets out? You’ll lose your job. In fact,” Kibum continues as he undoes his belt buckle. “You’ll be ruined.”

Jonghyun listens patiently, his gaze following every movement like he’s being taught an important life lesson. “I trust you,” he says when Kibum is shrugging his shirt off. “I know you won’t do something like that.”

“What if I prove you wrong?” he’s confronted. “What if...” Kibum shrugs, his tone casual. “What if I’m recording all this right now, and I use this to blackmail you.”

An imperturbable smile replies. “Don’t talk like that,” Jonghyun murmurs. “Come here.”

Kibum continues to maintain a distance between them. “The person you love the most,” he prods, lounging against the TV console. “Tell me about them.”

Jonghyun raises his eyebrows for a moment as if confirming this is really what Kibum wants. He sighs after a while, running his hands over his face. There is a sudden flood of tiredness in his movements. He looks unbelievably exhausted.

“That person is... distant,” he reveals. “Hard to keep close. Hard to keep in my arms. It’s... difficult to love someone like that, when there’s so much distance. Like being in a sea of love for just a day and then—” he shrugs. “Then a desert for the rest of the year.” He joins their gazes again, and smiles a little. “But I still love that person. A lot.”

“And you’re filling the distance with...?” Kibum gestures around the room in question.

“This won’t change my feelings,” Jonghyun admits with a shake of the head. “I... I could fill that distance with anything but. I won’t let that change how I feel.”

“You think you can control how your heart works?” Kibum fishes the other’s wallet and keys out of his pants and places them on the table, trying to prove a point. “You want me to stay, I’ll stay. But if you want your heart to stay...” he scoffs. “Do you think it’ll listen?”

Jonghyun worries his lip, looking from his belongings to his companion. “What about you?” he turns the question around, and his tone becomes a little accusatory. “Do you do things like this often?”

Kibum chuckles. “No,” he refuses. “Don’t get a lot of strangers sending me drinks at bars. Don’t go to a lot of bars, actually.”

“You don’t,” Jonghyun confirms.

“I don’t,” Kibum nods. “You’re... special.”

The other eases into a coy smile. He leans back on his hands. “Am I?” he asks. “Then why’re you so far?”

“Want me to come closer?”

A slow nod.

“And if I don’t?”

A childish whine.

“Use your words,” Kibum smiles.

Jonghyun flops onto his back. “Ah, _Bummie_... just come here, already,” he breaks character and complains to the ceiling. “I’ve been waiting so long and now you’re playing hard to get and being all—”

He’s silenced by a kiss that devours him whole.

* * *

Kibum knows every sigh, he’s familiar with every gulp. He’s met each whimper and each chuckle. He knows the taste of this arching back and he knows the flavour of these clenching thighs. He has been against this navel, he’s travelled all over this torso and these knees. He has pleasant memories inside the curve of this neck. He has a long recollection of the centre of these collarbones. His mind knows this fist in his hair and his ears are well-acquainted with this stringy moan of his name. He’s skilled at making these eyes roll back, he’s fully versed in the circles these hips follow. He’s intimate with this jawline, and these pierced earlobes are dear to him. He is a scholar on the subject of this waist. He could write a book about the lines of these muscled arms. Everything about Jonghyun is so easy to recognize, Kibum thinks this is why he exists. This is his only purpose.

He lives to love Jonghyun.

* * *

By midday the fog is no more than a memory. Kibum groans and turns his head away from the open window but the sound of someone’s annoying banter still makes it to him. 

In a corner of the room, Jonghyun is draped over an armchair. He’s wearing nothing but his shorts and Kibum’s headphones, lazily playing with his hair. The sun makes him look bronzed and beautiful, even more so than the dim light of the moon.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Kibum mumbles, then stirs under the blankets to get the other’s attention. When Jonghyun notices him, his eyes are pure gold with joy.

“Hi,” he pulls out the headphones. “Interesting music on here,” he teases and waves Kibum’s phone, inducing a blush and an embarrassed grumble into the pillow. “Didn’t know you were such a fan of my voice clips.”

“I told you, they help me sleep,” Kibum mutters from behind a pout.

“My baby,” Jonghyun coos and returns to his side with a bounce. “You look so tired. How long was the flight this time?”

“Twenty hours,” Kibum complains. “I hate flying civilian.”

“It’s OK,” Jonghyun caresses the back of his head. He leans in a leaves warm kisses along the side of Kibum’s face. “You’re home now.”

“Only for two months,” he’s corrected.

Jonghyun worries his lip at that. He looks on the verge of protesting for a moment, but then the moment is gone and so is any trace of remonstration. A wide smile replaces his worry. “It’s plenty,” he nods. “Two months is a lot. We can do so much. I’m glad I have you for that long.”

Kibum pulls the other closer by the waist, nuzzling into his shoulder. “You’re such a creep,” he comments, and Jonghyun cackles, patting his back and gifting his head with more kisses. “Don’t laugh. If I didn’t know you, I’d think you’re a serial killer.”

“Yah, give me some credit,” Jonghyun pokes his side. “You have any idea how hard it was for me to convince the boys to play last night?”

“That was the old man?!” Kibum balks, blinking all remaining sleep out of his surprised eyes. “I didn’t even recognize him!”

“Don’t say that when we meet him and the missus for lunch tomorrow.”

Kibum groans. “Why are we doing that?” he snuggles closer, arms tightening around Jonghyun until he giggles. “I come back after a long tour and you invite guests. Don’t like!”

“Hey, we have to thank him.”

“No.”

“Don’t be a child.”

“I’m not, I’m a full grown adult man with needs. And I demand that you fulfil these needs as is your duty to me.”

“Hul... duty, he says.”

“I do say.”

Jonghyun chuckles. “OK, Captain Kim. I’ll follow my orders.”

“Good! Here’s a medal,” Kibum cranes up and plants a wet kiss on the other’s nose.

Jonghyun giggles and placates and coddles him some more until they roll into a mellow silence. Short fingers rake through his hair, soft lips press against his forehead. They may be hours away from Seoul but Kibum is already home as far as he’s concerned. 


End file.
